Old School Arizona

[Madjag]

Madsinthe

Decided to be a test pilot today....2 months ago I decarboxylated 1 oz of Afropips Malawi99 and about 1/4 oz of Barney's Farm LSD and mixed into 2 pints of 190 proof Everclear. I took a level teaspoon at noon.

I call it Madsinthe after the fabulous liquor Absinthe, favorite of poets and painters in 1800's Europe. Though I've never tasted that Wormwood extract and herb delight, I have seen photos of its characteristic translucent green beauty.

It's an amazing buzz....2-3 hour creeper that has a nice inner voice to it. maybe next week I'll go for a tablespoon and hang out in the garden and yard. Not the sort of high you want for being behind the wheel...

 

[Madjag]

A Must Have Piece of History

A Must Have Piece of History

Interview with the Father of the Digital Age by Kary Mullis

Kary Mullis is a cool dude. He won the Nobel prize in 1986 for his discovery of PCR and its intimate relationship to RNA and DNA. He’s the author of a strange little book called Dancing Naked in the Mind Field. I bought the book years ago on a whim based upon the chapter titles listed inside and a brief description on the back of the book. It seemed like an eclectic mix of his crazy experiences, in college, at work, and at play in his cabin in the Mendocino woods of northern Cali.

How many Nobel prize winners partially credit their discoveries to LSD? Well there’s at least one. How many Nobel prize winners love to surf or have actually met an alien? Yep, he’s probably the only one….as well as the only one you or I have heard mentioned. Read his book and find out why genius is rewarded in more ways than just dollars. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention….he allowed the company he was working for at that time to have sole ownership of his discovery which was conservatively worth 300 million at that time. He could have played tricks but he didn’t.

In 1987 Cary discovered that the Father of The Digital Age, John Bardeen, was still alive and kickin’ in a rural town in Illinois. He found him in the phonebook and immediately called him up on the analog telephone (OK, who out there remembers dialing telephone numbers on a rotary dial or even the good old push-button Princess phone?) and had a nice talk with John about the ramifications of his discovery, the transistor. This beautiful talk was one talented researcher whose insight lead to a revolution in chemistry and human biology speaking with another humble inventor whose invention opened the digital door for the entire world. In fact I am typing on a computer whose creation is due to John Bardeen’s original transistor being the foundation that lead to circuit boards, memory chips, and all the digital tools like cell phones and laptops that we take for granted in our daily lives. These guys have helped write a piece of history that we seldom realize yet should gratefully acknowledge.

As you read this simplified science (and it’s all that I, not being electronically-inclined can personally even begin to understand) remember that John and his compadres were totally up on the current time’s electronic state of the art and had to break through that to another dimension in order to move ahead….. Dig it.

Conversation with John Bardeen:

John Bardeen [5] with a little help from his friends absolutely and forever changed our world. He invented the transistor.

One day in the summer of 1987 I was reading about him and realized he was still alive and living in Carbondale, Illinois. On a long shot, I called Carbondale information for his number. It was listed. The phone number of the father of the Electronic Age was listed. The manager of our local Circuit City has an unlisted number.

John’s wife answered and said “Yes, he’s sitting here at the table,” and put him on the phone without asking who was calling. I told him I wanted to talk to him about the invention of the transistor, was it a convenient time? Was he in a comfortable chair? He said fine, so we talked for about an hour. He never asked me who I was or why I wanted to talk.

I had been reading about the situation at Bell Labs during his tenure there. In 1945, on deceptively straightforward theoretical grounds everyone had concluded that a solid state triode device could never be made. Unlike a diode, where you can shove two dissimilar metals together so that they share a common face, three solids can’t be fashioned so as to have a finite mutual junction in space. Try it yourself with three pieces of different colored clay. It’s not fair to mix the different colors, and remember that finite means bigger than a point.

Thus, despite the problems with vacuum tubes, always blowing, problems well known to baby boomers, not their children, particularly well-known near the end of WWII to radar operators in vibrating planes, despite these problems, compared to the everlasting stability of solid state diodes, and what that promised for solid state triodes, it seemed to the non-Bardeen scientists at Bell Labs, for the reasons illustrated with clay above, a frustrating waste of time to attempt developing solid state triodes. Very visual geometric arguments are often accepted as axiomatic without too many tests. The earth is flat and the sun revolves around it daily would be a good example.

A diode, like the crystal of crystal radios, known to most every boy living at the time [2], could rectify, meaning it could pass a current in only one direction, and by combining it with a few other components, some ear phones, and a long wire antenna strung to a nearby tree, one could hear AM radio broadcasts lying alone in your bed at night, and feel remarkably in touch with the world. But to amplify the sound so as to hear it through a speaker, one would have needed a tolerant mother, a source of power, and an amplifier. An amplifier needed three elements, and the three elements needed to be inside of a vacuum tube because the process wouldn’t work in air.

One element was a source of free electrons, called a cathode which would be a hot piece of metal inside the tube connected to the negative terminal of a battery through a pin sticking out of the bottom of the tube. Another element was a place for the electrons to flow to after they traveled across the tube. This was the anode and would be a cool strip of metal some distance away from the cathode with a positive charge on it. The charge was supplied by the positive side of the battery and delivered through another one of the pins on the bottom of the vacuum tube. The third element was a piece of screen wire called a grid somewhere between the other two elements which could, by its charge, regulate the flow of electrons between the cathode and the anode in tune with the music. If the grid was given a positive charge by a power source which was connected to one of the pins coming out of the bottom of the tube, then the electron flow was enhanced (some of the electrons collided with the wires in the grid and were lost, but most of them just flew through the holes and were received at the anode plate). If it were more negative, they were repelled. The signal, or the varying charges on the grid, in the earliest amplified radios, could have come directly from a device resembling a crystal radio. The electrical current from the cathode to the anode that the grid controlled was the power that went to the speaker through the cables. Later it got more complicated. What the whole thing accomplished was that a very weak signal coming out of the air into the antennae was transformed into a much stronger but similar signal by the power from the battery and the ability of the triode to control that power. The triode actually had five pins, because two of them were needed to heat up a filament, like a light bulb, which heated the cathode. Usually when a tube blew, it was the heating element that failed. And they did fail a lot. That’s why they had tube testers in every hardware store. But hardware stores were inconvenient to put into airplanes and the tubes in radar did the same things as in a radio and failed very often due to the vibrations.

Solid state diodes hardly ever failed and Bardeen was a stubborn man. He believed in the possibility of a solid state triode in spite of the fact that three solids can’t overlap in space. He thought there must be some way that would allow for one of the elements to control the current between the other two, in other words, to act like the grid in a triode vacuum tube.

On the phone that morning, he told me there was one man at Bell Labs, a senior
marketing fellow, who could smell the money that a solid state amplifying element would make from the military and wasn’t too impressed with the theoretical impossibilities. Perhaps he had never played with clay. And so he alone encouraged John to put a little effort into it in spite of the fact that Bardeen’s immediate supervisor, William Shockley, according to Bardeen, thought it was wasted effort. Gordon Moore, founder of Intel and author of Moore’s Law, worked with Shockley later in Palo Alto, and gives Shockley a
little more credit for realizing the potential of solid state devices. [6] I’d bet on
Bardeen’s version, but anyway Bell Labs was a loose enough scene in those days that John could work on it without Shockley’s permission, and Shockley wasn’t there just before Christmas in 1947, when the germinal experiments were done.

And they worked. Bardeen and Walter Brattain demonstrated using a germanium diode that a signal applied to a tiny lead at the junction of the diode could control the current through the diode.

He had lots of solid state diodes, which are two dissimilar metals pushed together tightly so that they share a common surface, and they act like vacuum tube diodes because they allow electrons to pass through in one direction and not the other. The reason this worked in a vacuum tube diode (and the reason I say “worked” is that they are now collectors items—they still work, but we don’t use them anymore) was that one side of the circuit, the cathode, was heated by a filament and therefore had a cloud of electrons buzzing around in the surrounding vacuum, kind of like a pot of boiling water on a stove has a bunch of steam around it, and the anode was relatively cold and did not have a cloud of free electrons around it. So the electrons could flow to the anode but not away
from it, like steam can land on an ice cube but can’t escape from it. In a solid state diode the situation is a little more complicated, but it works the same way. One side has some loosely bound electrons and the other doesn’t. Bardeen was looking for a way to regulate the flow rate of electrons from the anode to the cathode with a relatively small signal current, and thus make an amplifier. Since a third solid element could not be crammed into the junction of the metallic anode and cathode, he sneaked in a teeny little wire, which he described as a “cat whisker” on the phone. Little thin wires called “cat whiskers” had been used by hard core crystal radio enthusiasts to find the “sweet spots” on their galena crystals. In 1947 he carefully placed a whisker right at the junction of a diode and measured the current of electrons flowing across it to see if it could be effected by a tiny current flowing in from the “cat whisker.” It was a tricky measurement to make because micromanipulators hadn’t been developed and, well you must know about cats and their whiskers. But it did work. It was amazing that it worked. But it did. It wasn’t something you could make two million copies of with good quality control right away, but the cat whisker was out of the bag so to speak, and after Shockley figured out how to do something very similar, but without the inconvenience of extremely thin precisely directed wires, they started making the things by the billions. Bardeen, Walter Brattain, and Shockley got the Nobel Prize in 1956 [1], and the scientists at Bell Labs who had thought it was impossible, had to eventually buy transistor radios for their kids. Shockley was later thought to be downright weird particularly for his social concepts. I never talked to him myself, and being an excellent judge of weirdness due to an intimate familiarity with the subject, I hate to rely on lesser judges.

That day on the phone I told John Bardeen that I was sitting at my kitchen window looking out on the beach in La Jolla, and that there about ten transistor radios within sight with hundreds of transistors in them, and scantily clad college girls who had brought them from Arizona for the week-end, and in my house I was surrounded by at least a million more in my electronic equipment. I could have said a billion, and it would have probably been right, but I didn’t know for sure. And what did he think about that? Did he have any idea back there in New Jersey what was going to happen?

“Well no,” and I’ll have to paraphrase here because I can’t remember his exact words, but I remember what he meant, “I was thinking they would be useful for radar of course, because of the vibrations in an airplane, that’s what got me into it, and I thought maybe they might be useful for hearing aids.”

“Did you envision little radios that people would carry around?”

“No I didn’t see why anybody would want to carry around a radio.”

I pictured my own grandfather sitting peacefully and deeply inside his ancient red upholstered chair beneath his completely mechanical grandfather clock on the mantle, beside his cabinet size Magnavox, oblivious to any cares and especially of his wife calling from the kitchen. He was listening to Benny Goodman and maybe if he had owned a portable radio he might have carried it down to the barn to listen to the farm report while he was doing the early milking, but it probably would have frightened the cows and anyhow, what about his big red chair. He couldn’t very well carry that down to the barn. I have to agree with John, I don’t see why anybody would want to carry around a radio.

“Did you realize that John von Neumann [4] was about thirty miles up the road at the Institute for Advanced Studies in Princeton working on one of the first electronic computers. They say it had ten thousand triodes, and made a lot of heat. The tubes were always blowing out. They could have really used transistors.”

“Yes, they could’ve. I didn’t know who he was or what they were working on. There’s more communication today”

“Probably because of you, John. Nice talking to you.”

I’m glad I called him. He was a real gentleman, and he not only changed our lives in ways that become more unbelievable every day, it was such a momentous thing that they did, it may well have changed our souls, whatever those are.

1. http://www.nobel.se/physics/educational/transistor/function/firsttransistor.html
2. http://www.midnightscience.com/project.html
3. http://hyperphysics.phy-astr.gsu.edu/hbase/solids/bcs.html
4. http://ei.cs.vt.edu/~history/VonNeumann.html
5. http://www.physics.uiuc.edu/people/jbardeen.html

 

[Madjag]

Reality....what a concept........

 

[3rd-3yed]

I understand what do you mean with the concept of reality, i 'm also a humble "student" of Don Juan knowledge.

By the way keep up the good work with your amazing storys bro, you're definitely one of my life's inspirations too, much respect.

 

[Madjag]

Reality Moves

Reality Moves

Thanks 3rd Eye....

Carlos Castaneda's writings have always been a great inspiration to me over the years. As "Playboy" magazine once stated, if he truly experienced what he wrote about, then he's definitely a wizard and genius; however if he made it all up, then he's even more of a genius.

I take the teachings that mean something to me. It's largely time-related....when I was reading his first three books in the 1970's and was a young man in search of spirit guidance, his teachings concerning how to be a warrior (Journey To Ixtlan) really touched me and helped guide me. Later, when I read The Power of Silence and The Fire From Within, I was moved by his storytelling ability and the teachings therein that were disguised as parables and metaphors.

Like all great teachings that have meant something in my life, it's personal. Each warrior on their own path will have messages and discoveries meant just for themselves. For me it often comes in books through the written word.

​

 

[Madjag]

10,000 Seeds For Felix Gallardo

10,000 Seeds For Felix Gallardo

As I’ve mentioned before, I really love to find great grow sites. It’s a passion, sort of an addiction. As I drive, hike, or backpack through rural and outback territories, I can’t help but examine and evaluate the spots I encounter for their guerilla weed growing potential. Weird, eh?

I’ve discovered or helped to discover 4 outstanding wilderness grow sites over the years. Each one produced for a year, one site for two years, and my favorite site, the Legend, sustained harvests for three excellent years. That last site is still ready and waiting for another boost…

When I initially jumped into guerrilla growing, I needed an additional income for getting by during that first year. I worked here and there for friends and was able to patch together enough dough to pay the bills, however the primary grow supplies like fertilizer, seed, and a good gas-powered pump, drive gas for to-and-from, a tent, and the many nozzles and fittings required in a wilderness garden were out of my reach. Like an amateur poker player wanting a chance to play in Vegas, I had to find a way to make an initial stake. Then I’d be ready to commit to a year in the wild growing weed.

My friend John the Mover had a possible answer. His recent connections in old Mexico, were just dying to have him take half a ton of sinsemilla off their hands. Credit? No problema. Weeds Are Us. Indeed it looked like we could be successful in creating our stake and getting back to the canyon.

I entertained the idea as a joke at first. Seriously, how could we ever believe such a far-fetched proposition, that someone he barely knew would offer to front half a ton of primo Mexican herb with no strings attached? What we didn’t realize just then was that the entire Mexican weed world was going berserk from over-production and the overflow had to be sent out somehow. The nascent cartels were in turmoil and needed customers and they were throwing herb at the borders by the ton. John’s connection, as strange as it seemed, would actually turn out to be one of the primary herb sources in all of Mexico, run by a mysterious man named Miguel. How the hell did John Boy ever fall in with such a family?

I’ve previously explained in a another article how John and I met and ultimately worked together for a few years. The following is the story of how we went to meet the man in Mexico and establish solid credibility, the type of trust necessary for opening all the doors required for getting into importing virtually overnight.

Miguel, the only name we knew him by, was a rising star in the Mexican Narco world at the time we travelled to Guadalajara for our initial visit with Wapo, his lieutenant, and his crew. John and I were bringing a surprise that his crew would enjoy, our very own Colombian, my good friend Peter. He would meet us somewhere in Guadalajara after arriving on his own from Colombia. Contacts were everything at this level of the import-export world and a solid Colombo contact with deep ties in the heartland could mean the kind of bonus returns we were always hoping for when these intro meetings took place. Not that I have ever witnessed that many initial meetings of this level anyway because it’s rare to be accepted in other worlds unless you’ve earned the trust that accompanies that specific world and its members.

Mr. C, my trusty pilot friend, had lived on and off in Afghanistan for several years when he began importing a bit of hash in suitcase false walls and other small-time methods suitable for 1967. By 1985 he was directing boats with tons. The particular acceptance that he enjoyed among the hash suppliers was from spending days and days in remote villages as well as supplying his own money and logistical expertise when he began his new career in the late 60’s. He slowly increased his moves over the years and eventually the Afghani tribesmen and their export crews gave him the encouragement to move more weight by accepting fronted loads. It was the next logical step that no money could buy. Mr. C had earned their respect and trust by doing what he said he would do and when he said he would do it, golden credentials in most business situations.

Our hope was that John’s first few runs across the border in the Cessna and the helicopter that he stole for them would open the doors in Mexico in much the same way as Mr. C had in Afghanistan. We were successful, it turned out, however even more had been planned on Miguel’s end that eventually diverted our hopes for becoming weed import kings. They saw coca dollars in our future, something that Peter and I were adamantly against and John simply couldn’t resist.

We also came bearing a second gift; two massive quart-size Zip-Locks of excellent weed seed. Ironically it was a mixed collection of Oaxacan, Guerreran, Sinaloan, and Sonoran seeds that had been high-graded over the last 3-4 years by a local Tempe dealer friend of mine. Looking back now it’s hard to fathom that we were illegally importing weed seed back into Mexico…what a concept! John, ever the cowboy, stuffed a huge baggy into each of his big-ass western boots without any concern for US Customs on the way out of Phoenix Sky Harbor. Coming back into the US we were always 100% clean, but going out? No worries he said. He was right, too.

Our international flight into Puerto Vallarta for transfer to a smaller local jet to Guadalajara was smooth and easy, however the clouds building up for the afternoon thunderstorms didn’t look too inviting as we boarded the prop-jet that carried maybe 100 locals, plus John and me, into the dark skies that loomed ahead. About 15 minutes into our flight the pilots felt the need to plunge directly into a towering Cumulonimbus anvil cloud probably at least 5 miles high. I was bummed and scared. The plane began pitching with the wings bending from the intense pressure of what John explained could amount to a 1,000 foot climb by the jet in just a few seconds. I had never witnessed huge jet wings bending in the range of 3-6 feet, well-curved in the middle, nor had I ever experienced turbulence so great that the flight attendants flipped whole trays of open cup Coca Cola onto passengers as they tumbled off their feet and into the crowded seats. Not until that day….

Boeing has completed the ultimate load wing up-bending test on the 787 static test unit, ZY997, at its facility in Everett, Washington. The air-framer says that it applied loads to replicate 150% of the most extreme forces the airplane could experience while in service, resulting in the wings being flexed upward by approximately 25ft (7.6m) during the test. In order to achieve certification, the US FAA requires aircraft structure to withstand 150% of limit loading for 3s.

John reassured me that one of the methods used for testing jet wing flexibility was to mount the plane by the wingtips from two towers, while slowly lowering the airplane’s fuselage. He said most large planes could flex as much a 15 feet before the wings cracked or ripped from the fuselage. “Thanks, John, that makes me feel so much better right now,” I muttered feebly as the Mexican women around me were chanting prayers loudly, crying out of fear, and kneeling on the floor by their seats. It was a scene from a movie that I would have rather not seen. It was one of those moments, probably like the one we’ll all experience should we die from an accidental death, where time and thought meld and melt, where in the blink of an eye it all goes dark.

Our flight made it through. I wanted to kiss the ground as I walked down the steps and onto the tarmac and I was shaken up enough to last lifetime. Whether the event had actually bothered him or not, John just smiled and geared up for business. When I asked about the seriousness of the situation we had just shared he laughed and said, “If you think that that was bad, you should try it in a small Cessna with a 500 kilos”. OK, sure John.

Somehow John knew where to go in order to meet our first contact, one of Miguel’s trusted lieutenants known as “Wapo”, or “handsome one”. We took a taxi to a modest two-story motel in the heart of town and were guided to a room that had several guys seated around a long coffee table. As we entered and took our seats, Wapo introduced himself and one or two other tough looking guys that were assisting him. Later we discovered that they were his bodyguards. They did errands like bringing case after case of beer to the meeting as well as to break out a multi-ounce pile of coke and place it on a plate in the middle of the table. Wapo went first, maybe to placate us, and snorted up a healthy portion. We followed and broke into the beer, too. The late afternoon sky outside was heading toward sundown just as we began our long night of partying. Good timing I thought, but John and I were all still a bit reluctant when it came to feeling comfortable in such an alien environment and letting down our guard. What was next?

Somehow Peter showed up and I can’t honestly remember how he knew how to get there. We must have given him Wapo’s phone number to call because this meeting was taking place during pre-cellphone days and we had no way ourselves of making contact until he actually walked right in. That was definitely part of Peter’s mystique and his strange power that he used so well. He spoke fluent Spanish and was very dark-skinned from hanging out in the abundant sunshine in his rural Colombia, two qualities that enabled him to blend in and move about with relative ease. Making a payphone call from another part of town and then grabbing a cab was second nature for him whereas for us gringos, it could be hell. Imagine coking out and then trying to manage your inner city travel plans alone, without speaking the language, and looking a bit out of place. Can you say target?

Luckily it turned out that we were more highly-regarded guests than we had anticipated. John’s previous gifts to the group and his solid service had impressed Miguel’s organization, opening the door much wider than he had thought. I could tell that our discomfort was not shared by Wapo and crew. They were being genuinely friendly and handing us the key to the city. We were famished so the party was postponed while we were treated to a nice meal at a nearby sushi bar, Suehiro. Strange, eh, to have some of the best sushi in the world in Guadalajara, the last place I’d expect. But why not, there was fresh seafood nearby in two oceans and the sushi chef was a friend of the family who had great local fish connections.

Our meal seemed endless as the chef spoke happily in Spanish to Wapo and Peter, in English to John and me, and in Japanese to his employees. The sake flowed freely, too, and the chef did shot after shot to match our always full cups. I was truly glad that I wasn’t driving that night because the goodies intake got a bit out of hand. Once we hit the motel it was back to coca products and beer….what can I say? The things we do in the name of business! Finally the bodyguard crew brought back a late dessert, 3 or 4 ladies who were destined to stay the evening. Man, it’s a good thing I wasn’t on a diet….

Peter had been careful to leave his Colombo passport in plain sight, on a table next to his bed, so that Wapo and crew would have ample opportunity to secretly take a look at it when Peter was out of the room and in the party pen. He knew that they would check him out and this way they didn’t have to ask him his real name, be concerned about his details, or him lying to them. They could do it on the sly instead. Boy, Peter was such a trickster, I’m telling you, and had so much fun playing with people’s minds. He wasn’t the least bit scared in that environment, like I was, and made himself at home, showing great respect and gratitude to everyone of his hosts. They dug his attitude totally and he was instantly in the car. And I was dazzled. It was like I had befriended Superman and was tagging along like Superboy with no green Kryptonite in sight. Peter was once again conquering the weed world like Ali conquered boxing, dancing and weaving through the ever-present danger with ease. A drug diplomat with an endless appetite for fun, excitement, and danger.

We had no idea until months later that Wapo wasn’t the big boss that we thought he was and that we were actually being tested out by a man named Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo, the lord of Mexican drug lords who incidentally also owned the motel we were staying at. We would read about Miguel a few years later when Newsweek covered the Mexican-Colombian connection and the birth of Mexican drug cartels. He was the first narco trafficker to be known as the founder of an organized, major cartel. The Godfather of Godfathers. Had I realized who was actually pulling John’s strings and had invited us with the intention of checking us out in person, I would have never gone along and would have sent Peter and John alone on the mission. Miguel was truly in the very top ranks of Mexico’s narcos at that time circa 1980. We had danced with the devil and didn’t know it at all.

The day after our welcome party, sushi dinner, and female companions we gave Wapo the huge baggies of seeds. He was astonished and said that because they were working on producing sinsemilla only they had inadvertently bred themselves out of seeds! He had a great need for quality seed and couldn’t get enough. Bingo!

We left Guadalajara having accomplished several outcomes, the most important being a limitless supply of fronted loads, 500 kg at a time. The only item we had to provide up front was a remote airstrip, at least 3500 ft in length, that could handle a quick, ten minute in-and-out drop off by a twin-engine Cessna with Mexi pilots with no papers, obviously. We made it happen 2-3 times and decided to go back to our wonderful guerrilla growing life in the canyons. Importing just wasn’t our bag. John went on to bigger things, lucrative but painful in the long run, if you get my drift.

I never did see or hear from John again, but every time I smoke some good old Oaxacan or Sinaloan herb, my mind wanders back to that initial mission and the signs from the Universe that were written upon it. Could it be that I’m smoking herb from ancient strains that came to America and returned via cowboy boots to become even finer, hybrid mota sinsemilla? Bizarre…..

 

[Raho]

Great story MJ

 

[bluepeace]

I love your gorilla pic they hide nice!


Had to throw one up!


Headed out camping you are to inspiring! I love reading your posts!

 

[wolfhoundaddy]

plane drops out of sky

plane drops out of sky

I remember a cessna doing a emergency landing near cordes junction back in the day. Seems it carried pot, but no one was captured.

We used to get those fresh Oaxacan spears up in prescott. Funny though how they bundled the whole plant. We got lots of stem with that weed.

After oaxacan we got lots of mexican red bud. Some of it was real good. From there it went commercial...hard packed, seeded, dryed out... and then gone. Must have gone east.

peace out

 

[Madjag]

Dude, where did the thread go??

Dude, where did the thread go??

 

[swamp man]

want to move to arizona

want to move to arizona

want to move to arizona where winter is warm and white man would noy get in troublewould like to talk with people who has move to southern arizona so i would know some 1 names of ciyies where i could grow my own medicine

 

[Madjag]

Swamp man,
Do you research first. With the coming of dispensaries, any approved MM patient within a 25 mile line of that dispensary cannot legally grow their own medicine.

As a certified MM (Medical Marijuana) patient, you can presently grow your own now as long as you do it according to the state rules. I could tell you many towns that are currently OK, however if a dispensary opens within 25 miles you will have only until your card renews to grow. After that date you cannot.....legally.

 

[Sforza]

Nice story, as usual Madjag. I enjoyed it very much. It reminds me of some of my initial meetings with a Jefe and family in Santa Marta and another meeting in Cartagena. Although the people I was meeting were no where near the top level, they were still some serious and deadly dudes and I had occasion to wonder what in the hell I was doing in the meetings. The blow, booze, and babes were part of the scene. I never hit it big, but on the other hand, I did not end up dead or in jail, so all things considered I have no complaints.

 

[Sforza]

I was up early and took some pictures of a nice Arizona sunrise in the area around our little ranch.

Like this one

And this one:

Took a shot of my little Taco too.

I was just out to the ranch doing a little work the week after Easter. The weather was perfect. Good sleeping weather and just a little warm in the afternoon.

 

[bluepeace]

This seemed like a good place to share this!
Saw this on the front page of a small town paper!

Dated April 1st

 

[Madjag]

April Fools Special

April Fools Special

This seemed like a good place to share this!
Saw this on the front page of a small town paper!
https://www.icmag.com/ic/picture.php?albumid=44420&pictureid=1055889View Image
Dated April 1st

HAHAHA....very funny Blue. It's from the SonoranNews.com foolish issue from April Fool's Day:

http://www.sonorannews.com/archives/2013/130403/news-april-fools.html

Nice find.

 

[JVonChron]

Inspiring posts madjag, eagerly read them all today. I love the way you vividly recollect all of the different varieties and describe their distinct attributes. I am the same way and alot of fellows I talk to are just like "na don't remember man". I remember varieties from years ago. One of the most unique was a variety called "magnum" around 5 yrs ago. It could have been import because I have to this day seen nothing else like it and it was Around when it was around. It was brown, like wet tree bark brown. It was all quail egg sized pieces with the random slightly larger piece here and there.aroma was fruity/bubblegummy and everyone turned their nose up at it. but among testing it was somethin serious. put your ass to sleep like clockwork after a 1-3 hour floatyheadphase.

 

[SylvanGardener]

Hello there. I have a question for any oldtime AZ heads? I was gifted some beans recently by an older couple from Arizona. I was told it was an oldschool AZ outdoor strain by the name of "Bisbee Blue". It has been grown for the past 22 years by an old Hippy lady deep in the woods off the grid hidden inside tree canopies. I saw and tried the bud and it was definitely blue/purple flowers/leaf and the high was an up Sativa high. I was wondering if anyone here might have any info or knowledge about this oldschool strain? I am forever grateful to have been gifted with these genetics and I look forward to working with these in the near future.

 

[bluepeace]

Bump was jonesing for a good read maybe some inspiration! I bet I'm not the only one. Hope all is well.

Bluepeace

 

[HappyGrowLucky]

Jonesing here as well!! Where ya at, MJ?!

So I'm here in rim country atm, anyone have any suggestions of camping spots that have really spoken to any of you? Haha I need some nature time and a good lookout point! Anyone?! Feel free w the suggestions!